


Tsuzamen

by thesinfulship



Category: DCU, Justice League (2017), Wonder Woman (2017)
Genre: Bisexual Diana (Wonder Woman), Chanukah, Domestic, Hannukah, Hanukkah, Holidays, Jewish Barry Allen, Jewish Holidays, Shabbat, Team as Family
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-10-17
Updated: 2018-12-14
Packaged: 2019-08-03 14:30:05
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 5,980
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16327760
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/thesinfulship/pseuds/thesinfulship
Summary: There are as many ways to make a family as there are people in the world, and there are as many ways to celebrate the love of a family as there are days in history. Not so much a sequel to These Past Years as an expansion on some details within it, with a healthy dose of Jewish holiday traditions sprinkled throughout.





	1. C(h)an(n)uk(k)a(h)

**Author's Note:**

> So I just. Love Barry. Love him so much. I think Ezra Miller is absolutely darling in the role, and I loved the little nod to his own heritage when he referred to himself as a "very attractive Jewish boy" in Justice League. I wanted to touch on that a bit here and write more of him, as well as expand on his relationship with Diana. If you haven't read my other Wonder Woman-related fic, These Past Years, there is some stuff in there that I'll be exploring more in-depth here, but if you haven't read it or choose not to, you shouldn't be lost. 
> 
> The title, "tsuzamen", is the Yiddish word for "together".

_ Chappy Chanukah!!!! _

_ Just realized that doesn’t look as funny spelled out as it sounded in my head oh well _

_ You get it though _

_ Anyway it’s Chanukah/Hannukah/Hanukkah/the festival where the real miracle is that there are 8 candles and 16 ways to spell the holiday itself _

_ Miss you guys, wish you were here to watch me try to make latkes. Pretty sure Steve would have plenty to say _

_ You’d be all nice about it and eat the burned ones _

_ Which makes me miss you more _

_ Anyway happy C(h)an(n)uk(k)a(h) _

Diana laughed at the rapid-fire texts from Barry. They had arrived following a ridiculous selfie depicting him in front of a storefront that looked as though it had been vomited upon by Christmas itself, save for a tiny menorah in a corner as an inclusive afterthought. Diana set her phone against a stand on the kitchen counter and pressed the button to start a FaceTime call while she prepared dinner. Barry answered right away, all smiles and exuberance as always. 

“Diana! Hey!”

“Happy Chanukah, Barry,” said Diana, grinning at him.

“You know what I wish I could do? I wish I could have like, a Justice League Chanukah party. Like how Bruce has his big company Christmas party. And the big company New Years Eve party. And all those other parties. When he finds time to do anything but be at parties, I’ll never know. He must not sleep. Do you think he has some kind of special Batcaffeine or something?”

“Bruce sleeps. On occasion.”

“Remember those chocolate cakes at the last Christmas party? With the peppermint inside? I swear I’ve been  _ dreaming  _ of those since last year.”

“I can make them.”

Barry’s eyes went wide. “You’re kidding me.”

“I’m not. I’m sure I can figure out the recipe.”

Barry groaned happily and then craned his neck as though momentarily forgetting the confines of the screen. “What are you cooking right now?”

“Coq au vin.”

“...something something wine?”

“Very good. Chicken in wine.”

“Steve should marry you all over again.”

Diana laughed and smiled up at the screen. Barry was sitting on his sofa, wearing a sweatshirt and a beanie, and even though he seemed as cheery as ever, it struck Diana that he was all by himself. She knew Barry considered the League members his only real friends, and that most people he was friendly with outside of the League were more of acquaintances than anything else. Barry spent the vast majority of his free time very much alone.

“Barry, will you give me one second? I need to check on something,” she said. 

“Oh yeah, sure. I’ll be around,” said Barry. 

Diana smiled at him and hurried over to her computer. She opened up her e-mail and quickly dashed off a message to Steve, knowing he’d get it right away. Sure enough, he responded within the minute, and she was able to get back to Barry. When she returned to him, he was clicking something on his own computer, which he set aside as soon as he noticed Diana was back.

“Barry, do you really know how to make latkes?” she asked. 

“Uh, kind of. I was mostly joking when I texted you. I mean, I’ve made them before, but not for a while. I thought maybe I’d try tonight just for old time’s sake.”

“You know, I happen to have quite a lot of potatoes here.”

“Oh yeah? Do you want a recipe? I can send you the one I found,” said Barry, already leaning back over to his laptop. 

“Actually, I thought maybe you could come over and make them here, if you’re free. I bet they would be delicious with this stew.”

Barry went quiet for a second, not looking at her. For a second, Diana thought she might have said something wrong, but then he spoke. 

“...really?”

“Really.”

“That would be...I’d really like that.”

“Then please, join us. We’d love to have you.”

“You’re sure it’s okay?”

“Of course it is. We’ll have our own little party tonight.”

Barry’s face lit up. “I’ll be there soon.”

“I look forward to it.”

They said their goodbyes and disconnected the call. Diana continued to prep vegetables for dinner, losing herself in the rhythm of it until she heard Steve open the door. She felt his arms around her waist a moment later. 

“Hey, angel,” he murmured, kissing her cheek. 

“Hello there. How was your day?”

“Long. But productive. I picked up the fruit tart like you asked. When’s Barry getting here?”

“I’m not sure exactly, but I imagine soon.”

“What do you need me to do?”

Diana grinned at his enthusiasm. “Set the table?”

“I’m on it.”

Steve kissed her cheek again and gave her a little squeeze before going to get their best plates. Diana had just started browning the chicken when there was a knock at the door. Moments later, a grinning Barry was bounding into the kitchen. He had showered, shaved, and put on a nice outfit since he and Diana had talked, and he carried a bag and a bottle of wine.

“Don’t you look handsome!” Diana said, hurrying over for a hug. “I feel underdressed.”

“Please, like you don’t always look like you’re fresh off a runway,” said Barry. “Steve! Dude!”

Barry and Steve hugged it out while Diana got out glasses and a corkscrew, which she quickly realized was unnecessary since the wine Barry bought had a screw top. She poured them each a glass and accepted the little clink of Barry’s glass to hers. 

“Sorry for the cheap wine. I don’t understand wine at all. I just buy whatever has a cool label,” he said a little sheepishly. 

“Don’t be silly. This is lovely,” said Diana kindly, a little amused at Steve’s very slight nose wrinkle at the taste of the wine. 

“So. Put me to work,” said Barry, already rolling up his sleeves. “Direct me to the spuds.”

“You and Steve are on latke duty while I finish the coq au vin,” Diana directed them, pointing to where she had set out potatoes and a grater. 

It felt good, the three of them in the kitchen together like that. Diana mostly stayed quiet, just observing Steve and Barry laughing at each other, potato skins practically flying around the room as Barry used his speed to peel them. The place felt so warm, and not just from the stove. Once she set the stew to simmer, Diana leaned against the counter and listened to Barry reading the recipe to Steve. 

“I mean, on paper, they’re really easy. But in practice it’s easier to screw them up. And people can be really particular. Like, competitive. Like, if you go to someone’s house and they’re serving latkes and they say something like ‘this is my bubbie’s recipe and she makes the  _ best _ latkes’, you know they take them seriously. Me, I just like anything fried with potatoes in it so I think an internet recipe with five stars and over six hundred reviews will do just fine, no offense to all the bubbies out there,” Barry was saying as they waited for the oil to heat.

“I had no idea latkes were so vital,” said Steve, forming another out of the potato mixture. 

“Oh, yeah. And you get bonus points if you make your own applesauce to go with them. That’s what my mom did.”

“When I was a kid, it was all about the pie,” said Steve, nodding seriously. “You can imagine. Pretty small farming town, lots of church picnics. Lots of pies. Everyone’s mom had her own specialty.”

“What was your mom’s?”

“Peach,” said Steve. “She made a peach pie that was just...I can’t even describe it. It tasted like summer. She’d wake up early to make it and by the time I was out of bed, the whole house smelled like peaches. You could smell it baking from outside. I used to have such a hard time waiting for it to cool enough to eat that she started ‘accidentally’ making too much crust and filling, so she had to use it up by making a little pie just for me. I actually bought that it wasn’t intentional for a while, until I realized there was no way she’d always measure out too much without noticing.”

“That’s cute. That’s really sweet of her,” said Barry, and Diana noticed he wasn’t looking at Steve anymore.

“Yeah. She was like that.”

“My mother used to scold me for sneaking treats from the kitchens,” Diana remembered, smiling a little. “My favorite was loukoumades. A bit like a crispy honey donut. My mother said she could always smell the scent of the dough in my hair after I had some. But any time she was particularly pleased with me, there would be a little plate of loukoumades waiting in my rooms. Right next to my favorite books.”

All three of them were quiet for a long moment, all three of them missing their mothers. Diana silently poured them each a little more wine. Barry cleared his throat and smiled broadly, snapping back first.

“Who’s ready to fry some starch?

 

***

 

To everyone’s delight, Barry’s latkes turned out perfectly, and Diana had been quite right - they went beautifully with the stew. By the time Diana set out coffee and dessert, everything felt so good and right that the smile on her face felt permanent. Steve was laughing so hard over a story Barry was telling them about a high school chemistry class mishap that he was red in the face, eyes crinkled and watering. 

“Oh, and I didn’t tell you the best part. Once I regained consciousness, I was informed that on my way down I had smacked my forehead right on the counter. By the next day, I had a huge goose egg. And it was picture day.”

“Oh, no,” Diana groaned, laughing herself now. 

“Oh, yes. I was informed that I looked like a unicorn. By the photographer.”

“I  _ have  _ to see this picture,” said Steve, wiping his eyes. 

“Absolutely not.”

“Oh, come on. It can be my Chanukah present.”

“First of all, you are not of the Chanukah persuasion. Second of all, I’m pretty sure I’ve destroyed all evidence of that picture ever existing.”

“I bet Vic could find it,” Steve said to Diana, who raised her eyebrows conspiratorially. 

“...damn it,” Barry hissed as both Steve and Diana laughed at him.

“Don’t worry, Barry. I’ll make sure Steve never lays eyes on that photo,” Diana promised him.

“Thank you. See? This is why she’s my favorite,” said Barry as Steve clapped a hand over his heart in mock indignation. 

“And for that, you get the slice with extra strawberries,” said Diana, cutting Barry a large slice of fruit tart.

“He’s playing you like a fiddle, Diana,” Steve grumbled. 

“Like a viola,” Barry corrected through a mouthful of strawberry.

 

***

 

Despite the fact that it was only early evening in Barry’s time zone, by the time they were halfway through  _ The Princess Bride _ , he was fast asleep on the couch, lying on his side and looking even younger than usual. Steve made to cover Barry over with a blanket, but Diana shook her head and very gently roused Barry by rubbing his back.

“Mmm?” 

“Do you have to work tomorrow?” Diana whispered.

“Mm-mm,” Barry said, shaking his head without opening his eyes.

“Okay. Sleep here, then. But in the guest room, all right?” 

Barry stretched and squinted at Diana. “Yeah?”

“Yes. You’ll be much more comfortable.”

Barry sat up and yawned, nodding. Diana led him to the guest room, Barry shuffling without lifting his socked feet off the floor. Diana thought he might fall back asleep before his head even hit the pillow, but at the door, he stopped and turned to her. 

“Hey, um...thanks,” he said, sounding a little shy. 

“I couldn’t leave you out on that sofa all night.”

“No, I mean...for having me out here tonight at all. I don’t have anyone to...you know. Have my own holidays with. So…”

“It made us very happy to have you here, Barry. You should be with people who love you on special days.”

Barry blinked and then, moving much slower and more deliberately than he usually did, he wrapped Diana up in a tight hug. She held him for a long moment, wanting nothing more than to be certain Barry knew he was loved.

“Get some sleep,” she said when they finally broke apart. 

Barry nodded and hugged her briefly one more time, adding a kiss to her cheek before letting go and curling up on the bed. Diana resisted the urge to actually tuck him in and went to join Steve in the living room. 

“He okay?” Steve asked when Diana sat and leaned against him. 

“He’s very tired.”

Diana was looking over at the little menorah Barry had brought. It was hardly big enough to hold the birthday candles he had brought to light, but he seemed very proud of it. Steve started to play with her hair.

“This was a really sweet thing you did,” he said softly. 

Diana shook her head. “You would have done the same.”

Steve didn’t deny it. “Maybe we can make this a tradition. For Chanukah, for any other holidays he might want to celebrate. He should know he has somewhere to go for them.”

Diana thought she couldn’t love Steve more, but as she so often was, she was proved wrong in that moment. She kissed him gently and brushed his hair back from his forehead as he smiled at her. 

“You’re not just saying that because you’ll want a rematch at dreidel?” Diana teased.

“It is a game of chance, not skill, he did not  _ beat me _ at it, he won by pure luck,” said Steve defensively.

Diana laughed.


	2. Shabbat

Steve had been gone for a week. They had been in touch whenever possible, but that never made it easier. Diana missed him so much that every day apart felt like a month. She knew it was just a blip in the grand scheme of things, that soon enough he would be home and in her arms and that she would be able to breathe him in and feel his warmth, but she couldn’t help it. After surviving a hundred years of separation from him, his absence always hurt. But this time, it wasn’t just the fact that Steve was away that Diana struggled with. This time of year always brought up ugly memories and stirred up painful dreams. Steve knew about it and had listened to her, comforted her, and tried to make her feel better from afar all week, but they both knew it wasn’t quite the same. 

But Diana did her best. She focused on work, rearranged the living room furniture the way they had talked about before he had left, she took Sylvie to lunch, she dove into the book she had been meaning to read, she cooked. But setting the table for one only reminded her that Steve was not home, and even Miranda’s sunny disposition and thumping tail did little to cheer her up. When she woke early Friday morning to a few texts from Steve, one of which informed her he would be away from his phone for at least a day, she sighed. Loneliness pressed at her chest. 

It was that loneliness that led her to pick up her phone and call Barry.

As usual, Barry answered almost immediately. “Di! Hey! What’s up?”

“Hello, Barry,” said Diana, already feeling a little better at the sound of Barry’s overjoyed voice. “What are you up to?”

“Nothing much. Just got in. Helped with a fire.”

“Is everything all right?”

“Oh, yeah. We got everyone out okay. Best firefighters you can ever ask for.” One thing Diana loved most about Barry was how he always gave credit to the people who helped, no matter how much of the heavy lifting he did. “Now I’m all adrenalined up and I was thinking of maybe playing some video games or something. It’s pretty early in Paris, right?”

“6:00. I’ve been up for a while. I was wondering if you might like to come to dinner tonight. It would just be us. Steve is working out of town.”

“Really? Yeah, of course. I’d love to. What time? What should I bring?”

“You don’t have to bring anything but yourself. I’d just like the company.”

Barry paused for a moment. “Are you okay?”

“I am...I’m all right, yes.”

“Something’s up.”

“Yes. But I am all right.”

“Do you, like...do you want to talk about it?”

“No, no. I’m all right, really. I could just use some time with a friend, that’s all. It has been a long week.”

“Do you want me to come now?”

Diana laughed a little. “You’re sweet to offer. If you like, but I understand if you need to wind down and get some sleep first.”

“And I should probably shower.”

“You are welcome at any time.”

“I’ll be there as quick as I can.”

Diana couldn’t help the smile and the way her heart melted. “I’ll see you soon.”

She occupied her time waiting for Barry with making a shopping list for dinner. This part was familiar, something she could do without thinking or consulting her pantry or refrigerator. This list had been written every year for decades, and she barely even needed to look at the paper. She didn’t really  _ need  _ to write it down at all, but there was something soothing in the routine of it, in feeling pen flowing over paper. By the time her neat script had filled the page, a light breeze beside her alerted her to Barry’s presence. 

“Thanks for leaving the door open,” said Barry, smiling at her but looking a little worried all the same. He held a bottle of cheap wine.

Diana closed the distance between them, hugging him warmly. “I’m glad you’re here. Thank you for coming.”

“Are you sure you’re okay? You seem sort of…”

“Hmm?”

“Sad, I guess.”

Diana let her eyes drop for a fraction of a second, but someone as quick as Barry wouldn’t miss it. 

“What’s wrong? Did something happen?” he pressed. 

“No. Well. A very long time ago, yes. Nothing is presently wrong,” said Diana truthfully. “And I will tell you about it, if you want to hear the story. But first, I need to go to the grocery store. Would you like to join me?”

“Ooh, a Parisian grocery store? I bet the snacks are killer. I’m in.”

As Diana suspected may happen, the moment they walked into the store, Barry was distracted by the array of food available. In addition to the items on her list, they left with at least twenty other things for Barry to try. Her own mood had lifted considerably by the time they returned to the apartment, Barry immediately perching on the kitchen counter and popping cookies into his mouth. 

“You’re not going all out or anything, are you? Because you know I’m cool with, like, takeout or spaghetti or whatever. I don’t need fancy,” said Barry, eyeing way Diana rolled up her sleeves. 

“I am going all out, but it is as much for me as it is for you.”

“Then put me to work.”

“Work by telling me what you have been up to lately.”

“Well,” said Barry through a mouthful of cookies. “Working on a new suit. Sort of. Not a whole new suit. More like patching up the old one. I need the knees and neck reinforced some more.”

“Oh? What are you planning to do?”

Barry began to excitedly explain his plans for his suit, and Diana listened with genuine interest. Because of his almost childlike energy, it could be easy to forget just how frighteningly smart Barry really was, but as soon as he got to talking about science and engineering, all that changed. This went on for over an hour, encouraged by Diana’s questions and comments. It didn’t come to a stop until Diana uncovered the bread dough she had prepared and punched it down. Barry was quiet then, staring.

“That’s...are you making challah?” Barry asked.

“I am.”

“I remember my mom making it a couple times. She let me do the punching. I didn’t realize you were making...I should have, I guess. All those eggs.”

“Would you like to do the punching now?”

“No, no, I’m good. You seem like you know what you’re doing.”

They were both quiet while Diana got the bread ready to rise a bit longer. After a moment, Barry shifted, now looking uncomfortable. 

“Diana? It’s, uh...it’s Friday.”

“Yes, it is."

“And you’re making challah.”

“I am.”

“And you invited your Jewish friend over for dinner.”

“Correct.”

“Your...not particularly  _ observant _ Jewish friend. I mean, I don’t even remember the last time I had challah bread. Wait. Yes, I do. It was on a sandwich. A  _ ham _ sandwich. Ham _ and cheese _ . It’s really nice of you to make this while I’m here, don’t get me wrong, but you don’t have to, you know... _ accommodate _ like this. I’ll eat whatever, you know that.”

“Barry, I am not trying to make you uncomfortable.”

“Okay.”

“I called you because I wanted to spend time with you. Not because I think Jewish people need challah bread once a week in order to function.”

“Okay. But, I mean, what,  _ are  _ you making a Shabbat dinner?”

“Yes.”

“...Diana, I’m, uh...what’s going on?”

Diana washed her hands slowly and dried them on a dish towel before she responded to Barry. 

“During the Second World War, I found myself part of a group that assisted in the liberation of several concentration camps. One of them was Ravensbruck. You know it?” she said, speaking softly. 

Barry nodded, oddly still. “Yeah. Women’s camp, right?”

“That’s right. There was a girl there. Very young. I always remembered her. Something about her eyes...she had such beautiful eyes. So big and dark. They were almost black, they were so dark, with the longest eyelashes I've ever seen. When I met her she was...frail. Very frail. Fragile. I touched her shoulder and she felt like she was made of splintered glass. I saw so many people during that war, people who were...who had suffered the worst. But she stayed with me.”

“Did she...did she make it?” Barry asked, his voice small. 

“She did. I found her years later, by chance or fate or...by luck. I don’t know. We met again on the streets of New York. She recognized me and told me who she was. I wouldn’t have known her. When we met again she looked so healthy and vibrant. But her eyes were the same, and once she told me who she was, I couldn’t believe I didn’t realize it first.”

“What was her name?”

“Halina. Halina Anielewicz.”

“Pretty name.”

“It is. It suited her.”

“Were you two, uh...like...were you…”

“Yes. We were lovers. For quite a while.”

“Oh. Wow.”

“And she knew the truth about me. All of it. Just as I came to know all of her story. She told me all about her life growing up. The little house with her sisters. The paints she got for her birthday. How proud she was when her nephew was born. And she told me about the Friday nights in that house, how everyone would gather around the table, even when there was hardly enough room. She used to love to help her mother braid the bread. Loved hearing her father sing. They would all take turns reading to each other by candlelight. It...reminded me a bit of my life on Themyscira. We did not have anything like Shabbat, not exactly, but there were certain holidays and rituals. Things I did not bring with me when I came to this world. And as for Halina, well. After the war, she abandoned most of her own traditions as well. They were too painful.”

“Did any of Halina’s family survive?”

Diana shook her head. “She was the only one.”

Barry looked down at his hands. “What happened to her?”

“She...struggled with everything. She tried to fight it, tried to find ways to cope, or...suppress. She tried so hard. But as it so often is with people who are hurting the way she was hurting, in the end, the things that would have helped her were too far for her to reach. But she tried. And I tried to help her. Sometimes it looked like it would work, like she would be all right. And sometimes she was, for a while. But…but the world weighed too heavily on her. Her experiences weighed too heavily on her. She died before she should have.”

Diana shook her head and turned away from Barry. She busied herself with getting some vegetables out of the fridge, and it was several minutes before either of them spoke. 

“I came home one Friday to find her baking challah. It was the first time she had done that since before the war. We did not light candles or say blessings, but we had bread and wine and we spent that night resting. No radio, no television, no work, just us and the quiet. It became a tradition. We never really talked about it, but it felt like we had stepped in the right direction. Things had been hard for a while at that point, she had been very low, but those Fridays became something we both found...healing for a while. It progressed beyond just bread and wine. Soon we began to add soup and a main course and a dessert. It became quite decadent.”

Barry had slid off of the counter and silently taken up the task of peeling cucumbers without being asked. Diana smiled at him. 

“After she left, I did not continue our tradition. But years later, I learned she had died, and...I wanted to do something to honor her. Not every week, I couldn’t quite bear that. But once a year. As close to her birthday as I can. It seemed fitting.”

“Does Steve know?” said Barry, peeking up at her. 

“He does. In fact, this is something I would usually do with him, but he won’t be back in town until next Saturday. I didn’t want to be alone for this, so I’m grateful to you for being here.”

“You’d do the same for me. You  _ have  _ done the same for me.”

Barry gave Diana an affectionate little bump with his shoulder, making her smile. 

“Tell me about her?” Barry prompts. “If you want, I mean.”

“She was very beautiful. Very kind. Straightforward. She did not like to take the long route to talk about things. She was...a hard worker. An artist. She would paint until her fingers went numb some days.”

Diana pointed to the painting of Halina’s she had displayed in her living room. Barry went to it, eyes wide. 

“Wait, this is hers?” he asked. 

“It is.”

“I love this painting.”

“She was very talented.”

Barry looked up at the painting for a little while longer, clearly seeing it with new eyes. Diana watched him lean in closer, crane his neck for a different view. 

“Was she, like, famous?” Barry asked, turning after a few more moments of staring intently at the painting. 

Diana shook her head. “It’s an unfortunate thing that she was not. She enjoyed some mild popularity, but she never managed to get the attention her work deserved.”

“I’m sorry,” said Barry, making his way back to her. He looked so sad for Diana it split her heart. “After losing Steve and then her…”

“Yes, after Steve, it took me a very long time to open to someone else in the same way I had to him. But Halina made it possible, and I will always be grateful to her for that. Despite everything, despite our struggles and despite the way I lost her...something in me was healed when we were together. I could allow myself just a little more openness than before. Just a little, but it was something.”

“She sounds pretty amazing.”

Diana made a quiet sound of agreement, and they worked in silence a while longer. She turned to Barry.

“Now, then, I want to hear about you. How are you?” she asked.

“I’m...you know. Same old.”

For all his talents, Barry had never excelled at lying, at least not to Diana. She tilted her head at him.

“Barry?”

He cleared his throat. “I’ve just been kind of tired lately.”

“Is anything the matter?”

“Not especially, but...

“Barry,” Diana said again, gentler as she looked at the way he tried to avoid her eyes.

Barry cleared his throat and shifted a bit, then sat down on the sofa. 

“Have you ever had a, um...have you...have you ever had, like, like a panic attack before?” he asked, trying very hard to sound casual.

Diana felt a jolt of concern pass through her, but she kept it to herself. 

“No,” she said. “But likely only because I physically can’t. I’ve certainly had the emotional equivalent.”

“Right. Yeah, that makes sense.”

“Barry.”

“Yeah?”

“Did you have a panic attack recently?”

Barry fidgeted and picked at his fraying jeans. Diana didn’t push him, didn’t stare him down, but instead let him gather his thoughts while she opened a bottle of wine.

“I...yeah,” Barry finally said. “I think so.”

Diana remained quiet, pouring them each a glass. Barry accepted his without looking up at her and mumbled his thanks into the liquid. 

“Would you like to talk about it?” Diana finally prompted after another silence.

“I don’t even really know what happened. I was at the store and I was fine. I mean, I was tired, but besides that, all good. I was standing in the checkout and scrolling on my phone and there was this huge bang, all these clatters, and a few people screamed. I found out later it was nothing, just an endcap getting knocked over and some canned vegetables falling and rolling everywhere, and the screaming was just kids being kids about it. And normally that’s something I’d react to by, you know, trying to help or something. But…”

“But you panicked,” Diana supplied when Barry trailed off. He nodded. “Do you remember it?”

“Yeah. Mostly, I think. I just freaked out. Couldn’t breathe right, felt like my chest was on fire...I thought I was having a heart attack, actually. I sort of remember a couple of people helping me, telling me to sit down and breathe. One lady asked if I had medication. I calmed down a little bit after a while. And I heard someone call 911, but I was able to get them to hang up. I said I didn’t have insurance so I couldn’t afford an ambulance. There was this old guy standing near me who even asked if I was a soldier or something, if you can believe anyone ever looked at me and thought that.”

Barry relayed that last sentence with a little snort of disbelief, but Diana was nodding.

“I can believe it. And in many ways, that’s exactly what you are. And for many reasons, that’s exactly why something like a sudden sound would cause that kind of reaction,” she said gently. “Barry, you’ve seen so much. You’ve seen violence, suffering, you’ve been in terrifying situations. And you’ve been strong and brave every time. That is very much what a soldier does.”

“Yeah, brave. So brave I start crying when green beans fall,” Barry grumbled, his face a portrait of humiliation as he hung his head.

Diana ached to see him like that, ached to see this good-natured young man so ashamed over something he should not be ashamed of in the slightest. It also pained her to see that her worries about Barry were entirely justified. She had always been concerned about him, not just because of his youth, but because of his tenderheartedness. Barry had a great capacity to love, which in turn made him lovable. He also had a great capacity to empathize, which in turn made him vulnerable. At each fight’s end, Diana had always kept a closer eye on Barry than the others. Steve teased her a little, but she knew he did the same, and for the same reasons. 

She reached out to Barry, gently tilting his chin up so he was looking at her, then resting a hand on his cheek. 

“You listen to me,” she said in her lowest, most soothing tone of voice. “It is not a weakness to feel as strongly as you do. It’s why you’re able to do what you do and keep that big heart of yours so full.”

“But what if...what if it happens again? If I freeze up in the field or freak out or something?”

“I don’t believe that would happen.”

“But if.”

“If it did, we would help you, because that is what you do for your friends and teammates. We would help you and we would take care of things.”

Barry’s eyes shifted downward again. “Picking up my slack.”

“Caring for you to make sure you are all right.”

“Do you think Bruce will kick me out?”

“Absolutely not.”

“Bet  _ he  _ never lost it at Target.”

“I bet he has never stepped foot inside a Target in the first place.”

Barry almost smiled for a millisecond. “True.”

“Barry. This is perfectly normal. It’s not easy or fair, but it’s normal, after all you’ve been through. Will you let me help?”

Barry shrugged a little. “I just wanted to talk a little, that’s all.”

“You should talk to Steve, too.”

The little startled motion in Barry’s eyes betrayed his surprise. “Steve? He’s...does he have…”

“Steve has been through a lot in his life,” Diana said, careful not to divulge anything without Steve’s knowledge or permission. “I think he would be a good person to talk to about this.”

“But he’s so...I love Steve, you know that, but he’s like, Tough Cool Pilot Guy.”

“Who has survived serious trauma. He will not think less of you for one second if you come to him with these troubles. I promise you that. On the contrary.”

Barry was staring into his glass again, and Diana’s heart clenched. She set her own glass aside, then gently took Barry’s away as well. A moment later, she had her arms wrapped around him. 

“This world asks so much of you, and you willingly give it even more,” she said. “Who could ever look down on a person like you?”

She felt the little break in Barry, felt the tiny tremor in his back when he finally let go, and she acted as a post to hold him up. She did not speak or ask him to speak, she just let him feel whatever it was he needed to feel. It was the longest Barry had ever been quiet around her.

“Maybe I can talk to Steve sometime,” he said, and he sounded so young it made Diana ache all over again. 

“I think that would be a very good idea,” she murmured, rubbing his back.

Barry pulled back, and now Diana could see that his eyes were a little red. “Sorry. I didn’t mean to get all…”

“It seems we both had things we needed to talk about today, hmm? So it’s a good thing we’re here together.”

Diana stood and held out her hand to help Barry up, and the two of them returned to the kitchen, where they cooked and baked and laughed and ate and - to a small degree - healed.

**Author's Note:**

> I spell it Chanukah. I dunno. I think it looks pretty like that.


End file.
